


A Couple of Dumbasses

by Cakepopple



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is fine, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Fix-it in the sense that I just said no to it all, Galra Keith, It is now, Keith and Lance are married, Lance is not a farmer, Langst, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Season 8 was trash, So it didn't happen in this fic, is that a tag, klance, klangst, tall Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:23:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakepopple/pseuds/Cakepopple
Summary: Now, Lance had always been insecure, there was no denying that; he constantly battled the pains of feeling inferior and impossible to love. And Keith would happily spend every second of his life comforting his husband to make sure he knew he was loved, despite the way Lance sometimes failed to love himself. But when things go awry and Keith is left fending off his own doubts, he neglects Lance's more than he'd care to admit.The question is, will he realize his mistake in time?(Note: My inspiration for this fic came from the vocaloid song Seasonal Feathers)





	1. Beautiful boy, blessed voice

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I hated season 8 so much I just kinda... blocked it from my mind. So Allura is 100% alive in this fic + she and Lance didn't date because their relationship was lowkey toxic in the show. 
> 
> If you want a good song to listen to while reading, you could listen to the song this is loosely (very loosely) based off of: Seasonal Feathers... [Listen here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0dvRMnmN2w)
> 
> I think that's all the info you'll need going into this so!!  
> Enjoy!!

Lance’s eyelashes were beautiful. They were glued to his cheeks as he slept, glowing in the sunlight that shone on them. When they lifted, they would brush the skin above, and his blue eyes would glow in place of the curls. But they were pressed to his cheekbones for the time being, the morning light still too dull to tear them away. Keith couldn’t get his lashes to fall in the same manner; they flitted there, briefly, every so often, but they always found their way back to the underside of his brows. He couldn’t drag his line of sight from the sleeping man in his arms. How could he?

It wasn’t just his eyelashes that were beautiful. No, quite frankly, it was much harder to find something  _ not _ beautiful about his husband, than it was to find something beautiful. As his gaze landed on the scars and imperfections along his own skin, he considered how unfair it was. How unfair it was that a man be as effortlessly gorgeous as Lance, while he lay there, so much less perfect. 

But he wasn’t bitter, Keith decided, pulling the sleeping brunet closer. 

They’d been married for almost a year, now, and Keith was still just as much in love as he’d been at the start. He knew Lance was, too, as he traced a line along his temple, and watched the man subconsciously lean into the touch. Scratching lightly at his husband’s scalp, he managed to pull his gaze away and force it to the horizon past their window. He followed the lines of rose colored clouds back to the shine of the golden sun. He squinted and, as if sensing the shift of attention, Lance pushed closer in his sleep. Keith smiled, smoothing Lance’s short hair back against his head. 

No, he was very far from bitter.

A few more minutes passed until the room got bright enough to wake the red paladin. Groaning, he stretched his arms around Keith’s neck to keep him from getting up. Not that the man was planning to get out of bed yet, anyway. It was the weekend, he had no plans for the day, and he fully intended to spend all his waking hours lazing about his house. Preferably with his husband.

Lance was drifting in and out of sleep. When he was awake, he busied himself by tangling his fingers in Keith’s hair, ruffling it until his eyelids got heavy again. Lance thought the man holding him smelled nice, like a scent he’d long since lost the ability to describe. He’d been around the smell for years. When he and Keith had first started dating, he’d been able to put words to it. He’d used the names of different essential oils, perfumes, and colognes, all blending together to be some semblance of a written description. But now, it was too woven into his pillows and his sheets and the skin across the palms of his hands. It was far past the point of summing up in words. 

There inevitably came a time when he woke up and was unable to lull himself back to sleep. Keith stayed on his side as he watched Lance tug his face from his chest and sit up. The brunet stretched his arms above his head, before getting out of bed. His movements were slow and groggy, but Keith found his attention stuck to them anyway, eyes glittering with nothing but adoration for the sloppy way he padded down the hall. He quickly followed the man, his longer legs making quick work of the distance between them.

The distance was gone when pressed his lips to the top of Lance’s head and softly inhaled. Somehow, it still managed to shrink when he wrapped his arms around his husband’s torso. Keith made quiet kissing noises against Lance’s scalp, as he embraced the urge to be disgustingly affectionate. Something about waking up next to Lance had him like this every morning. 

The man in his arms had stopped walking, now, and he tilted his head back to blink confusedly at Keith. His eyes were fogged over with drowsiness, and when Keith leaned forward to leave a kiss between his eyebrows, he squinted his eyes and wrinkled his nose. It reminded him of the way a cat squishes its head in when you press a kiss to its forehead. He pulled back. Lance reopened his eyes and smiled. 

Weekend mornings were always slow. Winter mornings were even slower, the cold air lingering throughout the house and clinging to the tile floors. Regardless of season, they would eat breakfast, then retire to the couch in front of the television, cuddling while watching cheesy movies or sitcoms. Winter just meant the couple would also share a blanket, slowly warming the air inside, until it mimicked their combined body heat. 

Today, they had whiled the early hours away watching Mary Poppins, and now that it had ended, Lance started on the dishes from their breakfast. He hummed along to tunes from the movie, and Keith spent a few minutes simply admiring the smile on his husband’s face as he did it. Eventually, he managed to pull himself up from the couch and join in the chores. Lance, noticing Keith’s arrival on the kitchen scene, smiled wider, before he stopped humming. Keith briefly considered urging him to continue his melody, but Lance picked it up again before he had the chance to say a word. 

“A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down,” he chanted, flicking sink water at his husband. He sang loudly, totally off key, and in a way that was only describable as precisely  _ Lance _ . Keith mirrored the impish grin that curved Lance’s cheeks. He was filled with a sense of awe, a feeling of pure love that rekindled every time he saw his husband smile. Wiping the spray of water from his face, he practically leapt at Lance, holding the man tightly to his chest.

The adoration brought tears to his eyes. The overwhelming joy made him dig his nose into Lance’s forehead and press kiss after kiss to the skin across his face. Lance sputtered, laughing as Keith’s eyelashes tickled his cheeks. He gripped Keith’s temples and forced him back. His eyes were squinted with mirth, but they swam with confusion. He was always surprised by Keith’s sudden explosions of affection; he’d never quite moved past the phase of not being able to believe someone loved him as much as Keith did. To be fair, Keith had a hard time believing someone like Lance could love him, too. He never doubted it, though. Keith hoped Lance didn’t, either.

Certain his eyes danced with the same puppydog love Lance’s did, Keith answered the unspoken question of reason. Why had he simply bursted with love? He wasn’t quite sure himself. All he knew, in that moment, was that his fingertips practically vibrated with the intensity of his need. His mind was repeating, over and over, that he needed to show his husband how much he loved him, and he was never one to deny his impulses.

He spoke the only words he could bring to mind. “When you sing, everything’s beautiful,” he murmured simply, watching the way Lance’s expression flickered between different emotions. Keith admired the way it flashed from surprise, to confusion, to joy, to disbelief, until it finally landed on embarrassment. The brunet shoved himself back forward, wrapping his arms about Keith’s spine as he sniffled into his chest.

Lance always cried when he received heartfelt compliments, Keith had learned. He was never sure why, he’d always assumed the man got them daily. Hourly, even. But he realized very quickly that that wasn’t the case. On their very first date, Keith had given Lance a gentle smile, looked him dead in the eye, and told him how nice he’d looked. Something light, like, “You look cute, tonight.” He’d panicked when he saw a glint of raw emotion he couldn’t identify in Lance’s eyes. The brunet hastily told him he couldn’t say things like that, dabbing his fingertips at the corners of his eyes to dry his tears. Something about the eye contact, or the genuine rises and falls of Keith’s voice, or the curve of his lips as he complimented Lance was too much to handle. 

Needless to say, that was one rule Keith refused to follow. Every now and then, he’d seen Lance look down and smile gently while on their date, and each time, Keith would ask why. As many times as he’d asked, he’d gotten the answer, “I was just thinking about what you said earlier.” That  _ one _ compliment gave Lance  _ hours _ worth of smiles. From then on, Keith promised himself he’d give Lance a lifetime’s worth of those bashful grins. One compliment at a time, if he had to. 

He was one compliment closer to his goal as he cradled the happy man in the kitchen that weekend morning. 

They’d finished the dishes in pleasant silence, before returning to their spots underneath the warm blanket on the couch. Keith turned on the news to mindlessly watch. After a few minutes, he felt Lance begin to shuffle nervously next to him. He shifted his stance and bounced his leg, gaze flitting about the room in an unorganized manner. Keith placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. Lance flopped his head unceremoniously into Keith’s lap, before Keith recognized the anxiety behind his movements. He combed his nails through the brunet’s hair, waiting for him to voice whatever was on his mind.

Lance gulped a mouthful of air, before speaking. “Let’s say,” he started, before backtracking. “Hypothetically, let’s say.” He stopped to shut his eyes and take a deeper breath. “What if when I sang, everything  _ wasn’t _ beautiful.” Keith furrowed his eyebrows, failing to understand this hypothetical scenario. “If I, like, couldn’t speak at all, or something.” He watched the struggle on Lance’s features as the man forced himself to meet Keith’s eyes. “Would you, I dunno, not love me anymore?”

Keith bent himself forward to kiss the tip of Lance’s nose. “I’ll always love you, voice or no voice.” That one sentence was enough to placate Lance. Anxiety seemed to drain from his face like a faucet had been unclogged. The wrinkles between his eyebrows faded to ones at the ends of his lips as they curved into an easygoing smile. He sat up in Keith’s lap, settling himself to press soft kisses along the black paladin's face. 

The rest of the daylight hours passed, free from worries. They’d spent a few hours watching TV, before the sun set and Keith had started to feel sick. His head pounded and his sight faded in and out of focus. Excusing himself from his seat next to Lance on the sofa, he hobbled his way to the bathroom down the hall. The water from the sink was cold as he turned it on, and he cupped his hands underneath the stream. He watched the water spill over the sides of his hands for a few seconds, trying to piece together if the foggy edges were the foam or if they were whatever was throbbing behind his eyes. Dragging the cold liquid down his face, he left water trails against his cheeks. Keith looked into the mirror and blinked.

His eyes were yellow, and it finally triggered a memory. He recognized the drumbeat in his head from the time he fought the clone of his brother. Groaning, he dropped himself against the door, letting his ear land against the wood. The tint in his eyes and the heartbeat in his ears were unmistakably Galra, but he didn’t understand  _ why.  _ He’d very rarely shown any physical alien traits, and when he did, they came from stress. But his pulse, while loud, was slow and calm, humming in tune to the steady drips of water in the sink. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

A laugh erupted on the other side of the door and Keith smiled at the sound. Lance was enjoying whatever comedy he'd changed the TV channel to. His laughs were airy, fluttering softly and quickly, and the pulse in Keith’s ears got faster. He loved that man too much.

Forcing himself up and shutting off the trickle in the sink, Keith exited the bathroom with careful steps. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and kept his gaze trained to the screen as he approached his husband. Lance knew he was part Galra, but he’d never seen his eyes like this and Keith fully intended to keep it that way. The lie came too easily.

“Hey, the Garrison just called me in,” he murmured, refusing to meet what he was certain was the concerned pursed lip of his husband. He dragged his finger across his phone screen, pretending to occupy himself with something important. Part of him scoffed; as if anything was more important than the man he was currently running from. He made his way behind the couch to press a kiss to Lance’s scalp without making eye contact. 

“Oh. Really? It’s almost dinner time.” He sounded so disappointed and Keith almost lost his resolve entirely. Dragging his feet, he snatched the car keys out of the bowl on the counter. His feet were trying to stop him, trying to reel him into a conversation with Lance. He couldn’t give in, though. Humming in acknowledgement of Lance’s question, he kept fiddling on his phone until he reached the front door. “Do you want me to come, too?” The brunet had turned the television off and made a movement to stand up.

“No, no!” Panic flared in Keith’s veins. He was honestly a terrible liar. “Please, enjoy your Sunday, I’ll be back by bedtime.” The black paladin chanced a quick scan of Lance’s figure, noting the disappointed slump in his shoulders. Guilt swam in his chest and he almost relented again.

“Okay, I’ll wait up for you,” he breathed, padding over to give Keith a hug. How could he lie to that? To someone who hugs this warmly and smells this nice. He nuzzled his nose against the familiar curls of Lance’s bedhead, before scrambling to the door. Keith had considered telling him not to wait up, but he knew if he said anything more, his voice would give way to something fragile. He kept silent.

Now, he’d felt guilty about lying, for sure, but he’d felt even guiltier about not even abiding by the lie  _ he’d _ come up with. He never went to the Garrison, he had merely driven around for a few hours, until the golds of his eyes had once again mellowed into white. It was long past dinner, and a decent amount of time past bedtime as well, when he crept back into his house. Lance had obviously tried to stay up, an abandoned mug of coffee sat on the table, next to which his head rested against his forearms. The TV created white noise that had apparently lulled Lance to sleep. 

Keith nudged the man awake, watching the same fog of sleep he’d seen that morning create a film over his eyes once again. Lance gave the black paladin a weak smile, still far from awake, and reached his hands into the hair at the nape of Keith’s neck. The taller man tugged the brunet from his spot at the table and into bed, guilt still scratching at the perimeters of his mind. He watched him fall back into sleep, now under the covers and in his arms. 

He really hoped his eyes wouldn’t change again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!! :-)


	2. Sharpshooter? Or not so much...

Lance had woken up first the next morning, before their shared alarm clock even went off. Something was eating at him. He writhed free of Keith’s firm grip around of his waist, silently giving thanks that his husband was such a heavy sleeper. His shower was quick, because even though he had the time for luxury, he wasn’t really struck with the desire for it, at the moment. He’d already dressed himself and finished his first cup of coffee when he heard the alarm begin to ring in the other room. It shut off, after a loud thwack echoed through the building. 

Keith waddled down the hallway towards him, confusion muddling his features as much as exhaustion did. Lance fed him a bright smile from behind his second mug, but concern wouldn’t release its hold on the curve of his husband’s eyebrows. “I couldn’t sleep,” he mused, swishing his coffee in slow circles. Keith made a grunt of understanding, before heading off to take his own shower. 

When they’d both finished their morning routines, they got in the car to drive to work. They both worked at the Garrison, currently, having been offered jobs a few years back. The employment was neither too boring nor too exciting. It was that bland, oatmeal middle. It paid the bills, though, and that was more than enough for the two of them. 

Though, if Keith was taking overtime, maybe it wasn’t--

Lance perished the fleeting thought.

After starting the engine, the low fuel levels in the tank didn’t go unnoticed by Lance. He thought it odd; it had been full when he went shopping Saturday, and Keith had only driven it to the Garrison and back since then, right? Why had it dropped so much? He let it slip his mind with a simple promise to inspect for a leak later. 

The two checked into work. Keith hastily headed to the meeting room, while Lance lingered around the staff break room, waiting for one of his friends to check in. It wasn’t like he was in a rush to start his responsibilities. About four minutes on his tail, Hunk made his appearance, greeting Lance with a quick wave and a nod. He looked tired, prodding the undersides of his eyes while squinting at his phone.

“What’s got you so worn out?” Lance, having ingested his daily caffeine, had a much brighter shine to his face and a much sunnier tone to his voice. The tall man groaned, tracing lines on his eyebags again, before rubbing circles against his temples. He fumbled with the coffeemaker in the lounge. 

“There was something I wanted to finish up here last night, so I pulled a pseudo-allnighter working,” he drawled, his words dripping with the same fatigue as the rest of him. Lance perked up, despite that. If he was there, then he must have seen the black paladin, as well.

“Oh, Keith was called in last night, were you working on the same thing?” Hunk sobered, drowsiness clearing his face for a moment as he thought. He hummed while pondering, prodding the coffee machine further. 

“No, I didn’t see him at all,” he answered finally. 

Lance, for the second time that morning, found the facts strange. He bid farewell to Hunk and made his way to meet up with Keith. Possible explanations whirred in his brain, piecing together a mystery that wasn’t really all that important to his conscious mind. With only two pieces of evidence to work with, though, none of the explanations got far. He didn’t know of any other Garrison facilities in the area, so Keith had to have come to this one, but Hunk hadn’t seen him. Assuming it was due to the size of the building, he let this inconsistency slip from his thoughts, just like he'd done with the previous.

When he caught up with Keith, he was chatting with Pidge and Shiro, and the rest of the room had been abandoned. It had one long table with a number of chairs so large, they made the three people sitting in them look small. Well, if he thought about it, Pidge was already small, but that was beside the point. Swinging a chair so its back faced the group, Lance tossed himself down and leaned on his elbows.

“So what’s the plan today, Shiro the Hero?” The man in question gave a smile that would have folded under the weight of a feather; he had smiled to be polite, not out of any real expression of joy. 

“Training,” he answered, stacking papers and flipping through them. “Iverson wants to reevaluate your stats.” Lance groaned. Iverson always gave him poor marks. As if sensing exactly what he was bitter about, Shiro hastily added, “Lance, don’t worry. Iverson’s not grading today.” The brunet practically heard angels sing. Was his birthday in December? Had Christmas come early? Maybe he’d finally pass a simulation.

It was a simple training sequence. They had some of the fancy training robots like the ones from back when the Castle of Lions was around, and they had to take them down as quickly as they could. They were graded on speed, fluidity, and a bunch of other things Lance was too lazy to read on the rubric. Pidge went first, clearing the room in six minutes or so. Hunk was next, and he took about the same. Then was Lance’s turn.

Two of his robots were long range attackers, and four were close range. He changed from sword to gun, and back, accordingly. His swordwork wasn’t as neat as he would have liked, but when he shot his gun, it downed enemies in a single hit. Take that, Iverson, he  _ was _ a sharpshooter. Weaving between enemies with a grace he was sure would get him full points on fluidity, he completed the exam in exactly four minutes and thirty seconds. A smile fanned across his face; he was proud to have had the fastest time so far. Keith looked equally proud, beaming with a glow Lance rarely saw. 

“Nice work, Sharpshooter,” he said, patting Lance’s shoulder on his way into the sequence. The skin under Keith’s palm burned in a way that reflected across the brunet’s cheeks.

The simulation booted up, and Lance smiled the whole time. He loved it when Keith complimented him, he always knew it was sincere, and there was no one else he’d rather hear it from. His ears felt hot, which only flustered him more. He was so smitten. He’d been married to his husband for a year, now, yet he still got worked up over a silly nickname. But he swelled with a feeling of luckiness, which he let wash the embarrassment away. 

Keith’s simulation had the same setup as Lance’s, and the brunet thought it unfair. He was surrounded by the four short range robots and lacked any means of taking down the shooters at the edges of the room. Lance had both a long range and a short range weapon, but Keith only had his blade. There was no way he could execute the exam as quickly. Lance swiftly found himself standing corrected, though, when his husband darted forward the  _ millisecond _ the buzzer starting the test went off. 

He truly had the blood of a fighter in his veins. Slitting a robot’s throat, he dove between its legs and past the seemingly impenetrable wall of defense before its body even started to fall. Charging to the shooters on the fringes of the arena, he cut them down with ease. Neither even had the chance to take a shot. He blocked a few blows from the close range robots before they met the same fate as their friends, and he ended up finishing with a three minute time. 

Lance was in awe. Three minutes and seventeen seconds. His husband exited the training room, wiping the back of his wrist along his hairline, but Lance knew for a fact he hadn’t broken a sweat. Damn him, trying to look cool after already looking like a total badass in the simulation. He locked eyes with the awestruck and lovestruck red paladin, and an inkling of a smug smirk passed his lips. Cooler still. 

The feelings were purely positive at the start. Shock was part of it, sure, but it was paired with pride and adoration and such a strong wave of love, Lance’s knees went weak. That badass who’d outdone him so thoroughly was  _ his _ badass. But then he thought more and felt small in comparison. The insecurities took hold of the waver in his pride, and with it, took hold of his train of thought. They derailed it entirely, spiraling it down a path darker and lonelier. 

He’d thought his scores were great, but now they barely felt adequate. He’d had an advantage, but still fell short of Keith’s lofty skills. 

Sharpshooter? What did it matter? Keith was still better, like he’d always been. 

These feelings didn’t fester into some deep-seated bitterness, or blossom into a rivalry as his past would suggest. No, they just sank lower in the pit of his stomach, tossing the contents around uneasily. His smile sunk with them, and suddenly Lance was left feeling sad and heavy. Sad, heavy, and  _ beaten _ . He would never be good enough, would he?

Allura made her way into the arena, but Lance paid no heed. His worries were elsewhere, as he scampered out of the waiting room and to the hall. He was scurrying to his desk. He’d spend time doing mindless paperwork until his insecurities ebbed away, like he always did. He’d drown himself in work until the tensions drowned, too, and left him alone. 

Keith had followed him, though, and had different intentions. 

“Hey, Lance,” he breathed. “Is everything alright?” Keith was worried it was his fault. The momentary pain that flashed in Lance’s eyes, before he hung his head and rushed away. His mouth went dry when he considered the possibility that he’d scared his husband. Had his eyes changed, again? His head felt fine and his skin didn’t feel clammy, so he doubted it. Was he frightening regardless? Maybe his show of violence triggered a fear in Lance. 

“Huh? I’m fine.” The red paladin’s eyes stayed glued to the ground and his pace picked up. Keith ran in front of Lance, stopping him. He could see right past that lie; hear the insincerity laced throughout the tone. The fingertips of one hand landed across Lance’s shoulder, while the other went to his face. He nudged his chin up before pressing their foreheads together.

“Don’t you lie to me about that.” The words tasted sour. He’d lied just the night before, he felt sick mentioning it now. “You can always tell me what’s wrong.”

Lance remained quiet. He’d finally met Keith’s eyes, but the only sound leaving his lips was a soft breath of air. The leader chanced the hard question.

“Did I scare you?” With that, something clicked behind Lance’s eyes, and he stumbled over himself to correct the misconception.

“What? No!” 

“Because, you know, you never have to be scared of me. I guess I’m a violent fighter, but I’d never-- I’d never hurt you. You know that, right?”

“What? I know that, obviously. That’s not it.” Keith had never gotten better at being in tune with his, and everyone else’s, emotions. He never failed to make Lance’s insecurities vanish, but he also took quite a while to realize they were there to begin with. “Look, I just,” his sentence died. “You were so great in there, Keith.” Lance took a step back to soak in the whole of his husband’s face. 

“Thanks. You too,” he complimented effortlessly, as much an instinct as blinking.

“No, I wasn’t, though. I thought I was, but I’m not! Look at you, you’re so great and I’m just--”

“Our Sharpshooter,” Keith finished.

“No, but, what if I wasn’t! Is that all I am? Would I lose my relevance? My value? Would you still even love me?”

Keith’s heart hurt when he answered, “I’ll always love you, sharpshooter or no sharpshooter.” He wanted to tell him so much more, but his words were failing him. He could see in Lance’s eyes, the sentence he'd spoken wasn’t doing enough. Forcing more air past his lips, he contemplated what to say. “You’re so much greater than that nickname, Lance. You’re a great person, a valuable paladin, someone’s brother, someone’s son,” he paused, voice softening even more. “My husband.” He gripped Lance’s hands. “And so much more.” Those blue eyes were reflecting more light now, spilling it over onto the cheeks below. “You’re Lance, and there’s no one I’d rather you be.”

That did it. Screw the paperwork, this had been what Lance really needed. He shoved his nose to Keith’s chest, blinking more tears down his cheeks and tightening his arms around the other man’s larger frame. Keith, without a moment’s hesitation, returned the embrace with just as much fervor. Lance had been feeling more anxious lately, but Keith didn’t know why. Maybe it was just one of his episodes and it’d pass, but whether that was the case or not, Keith was going to hold him through the whole thing. For eternity, if need be. 

Their embrace lasted a long time, but not nearly the eternity he was willing to give. The deskwork called them and dragged them away from their shared warmth. They’d have to wait until after work to continue. Lance was sure could make it through the day, now, though, and Keith was sated. He’d felt the tension leave his husband’s shoulders while he held them, which was enough reassurance to keep him running through the day, too. 

Work ended soon enough, and Lance drifted to Keith’s desk, waiting for him to send his last email of the day. He admired the black paladin’s ability to focus. When he wanted to get something done, nothing could drag him away from it; it was as if nothing else existed. Lance had been both the unnoticed and the obsession to Keith. There were days that went by, during which, Keith was too out of tune with emotions to remember how much attention Lance needed. The brunet had learned not to take it too personally, but it helped when he recalled the days he was on the other end of his unyielding focus. The days when he was sick and Keith would spend every second caring for him, neglecting arguably more important things. The days when he gave the right set of puppy eyes to get cuddles all day long. But his favorites were the days Keith gave him for no reason. They were always the most heartwarming.

Now, though, he stood on the other side of the river; the side without Keith. He watched his husband clack away on his keyboard, still yet to notice Lance’s mellow presence. Glancing to the setting sun outside, Lance contemplated whether or not to scare or play a prank on the distracted man. The decision was made for him, however, when his stomach all but howled and alerted Keith of his position at his side. The paladin whipped around so quickly, his swivel chair spun too far, and he had to drag it back to face Lance. His face contorted in what Lance initially misidentified as surprise. When Keith suddenly stood up and spoke, he realized his assumption was wrong.

“You’re hungry,” he said simply. Ah, so the look was a flare of protectiveness, was it? Lance tilted his head slowly to each side before shrugging, pushing how far he could exploit this new development. Maybe Keith would make him dinner, if he acted cute enough. 

Keith shut his computer off and cleared the papers scattered around his desk into a lopsided pile in his arms. “It’s not a big deal,” Lance murmured, pursing his lips before blinking slowly, gently, and doe-like. Subtle cute always won his husband over. 

The man huffed. “Yeah, no, I’m taking you to dinner.” Hook, line, and sinker.

Keith shoved his papers haphazardly into a bag, ignoring the way they crinkled loudly in protest. He slung the bag over his shoulder, and reached his free hand out to Lance, who accepted it with a smug curve to his lips. He hid the smile behind his sleeve when Keith took a peek at his face. They started their way to the car, and Lance felt a familiar warmth flutter along his chest. He really did love every moment he spent with Keith. He then felt an absent minded rub of a thumb on the back of his hand and, knowing Keith never noticed he was doing it, he returned the gesture to alert the man of his actions. It was followed by an intentional squeeze, which he also mimicked.

The black paladin wouldn’t be embarrassed to admit the similar heat against his own rib cage. A surge of pride, of joy, and of feeling fortunate. He loved his husband with every fiber of his being. He was always proud of him, and equally proud to have him in his life to hold his hand and kiss his cheek after every mistake. They both fell short in their own ways, but their relationship had been forged into one of acceptance and forgiveness. Each thought of the other first, holding one another up in the same way two cards could tilt together, meeting in the middle to support each other. 

Keith’s affectionate warmth grew in a way Lance’s didn’t, however, and it wasn’t as pleasant. It pooled in his skull and behind his eyes. He tried to blink back the familiar headache to no avail. He slipped his hand away from Lance’s and his eyes locked onto his stilling feet. Lance’s feet paused, too, before the brunet made a confused noise.

He started to explain, but his voice gave out. He began again. “I just remembered, I have to work with Shiro on something tonight.” This lie came more easily than the last. He knew his brother would back him up, if he explained the Galra situation. Lance made a step towards him, sucking in a breath like he was prepared to say something in response. Keith knew it would be an offer to stay with him, so he swiftly turned his back on the man. “I’ll get him to take me home after, you can go ahead and eat.” 

“Okay,” Lance had choked out. He spun on his heel and ran the rest of the way to the car. His eyes stung as he sprinted, and his legs burned with something that wasn’t purely the run. His breaths were short and quick. He collapsed into his car. Keith had all but yanked his hand away, and he couldn’t express why it hurt so much. What had made his husband so ashamed of Lance, that it warranted such a cold abandonment? 

Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, he shook himself out of his episode enough to drive home. Keith hadn’t followed in an hour. He hadn’t followed in two. He hadn’t followed in three or four, either. Lance never ended up having dinner; his tears had dissolved any hunger he’d previously experienced. He forced himself to stay up as late as he could, but he’d only seen the tear-blurred clock display 3:16 AM before he passed out. It was the closest he’d get to relief from his returning insecurities. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith, avoiding your husband isn't going to help!!
> 
> Let me know what you thought below! And as always, I love art so please give me a link to any you make for my fic! muah! o3o


	3. Flowers and flowery words

The morning became sad and slow when Lance woke up to find no one next to him. His feet dragged everywhere and he skipped breakfast the same way he’d skipped dinner the night before. Part of him was worried, thinking maybe the reason Keith hadn’t come home was because something bad had happened. But mostly, Lance was just hurt. He couldn’t understand why Keith was drifting away; he couldn’t comprehend his distance. Had he done something wrong?

When the red paladin finally managed to haul himself to work, he saw his husband at his desk, still working away. Lance received no greeting upon his entrance. So Keith really had just been distancing himself, then. The brunet stretched his lips into an unassuming smile, refusing to let anyone see his pain.

His heart wasn’t in his work that day. He filled the papers out accurately and quickly, but he did so without thinking about it. It was mindless repetition, while his true concerns settled elsewhere, like considering Keith’s different motives for acting so distant. Perhaps Keith wanted more money, so he was working overtime. This was a thought his brain had partially baked before, when his husband had been called in on the weekend, but he hadn’t let himself believe it. Now, though…

That had to be it, Lance determined. Keith wasn’t happy with their meager lifestyle, and he, without telling Lance, was working towards something more. He worried about the implications, though. The brunet had never had much money growing up, and he knew Keith hadn’t either, but maybe their similar financial experiences led to different results. Lance’s had led to contentment with less material goods, while Keith’s had left him wanting more.

Lance was completely off in his conclusion, but he had no one to tell him that. The facts and his explanation added up; they became his new reality. He was determined to find a way to better the financial situation now, just like he assumed Keith was. He remained a little worried, Keith wouldn’t leave him because of money, though.

…

Would he?

The brunet made a plan. He couldn’t work overtime like Keith, then it would be obvious what he was doing; Lance would have to find some other way to get a raise. An idea struck. He lifted himself out of his desk and went to visit Iverson’s office. It was past Keith’s desk, but Keith was too focused to notice his husband slip by. If Lance was being honest with himself, he was a little disappointed.

He knocked on the door to the office and was invited in. Iverson seemed happier to see him now that he wasn’t some rowdy cadet.

“Sir, I was wondering if there were any special missions currently,” Lance said.

“What do you mean by special?”

“Well, something that would put my paladin experience to good use. I’ve gotten more practice in some areas than most of the other officers here, and I figured I should optimize my usefulness.” He kept his voice steady, trying not to reveal his ulterior motives. _You’re just trying to be helpful, you’re just trying to be helpful._

Iverson rubbed his hand along his chin. “Well, I’m sure I can find something for you, given a bit of time. We always have need for fighter pilots _somewhere_. I’ll get back to you when I figure something out.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lance started for the exit.

“And in the meantime,” he waited for the paladin to turn around. “Don’t forget about today’s mission.”

Huh? Today’s? Oh, man, was that _today?_ He had a mission with Keith in-- he looked down at his phone screen-- an hour. Shit. The red paladin nodded, before scrambling out of the room and back to his desk. He slowed his pace by Keith’s, stopping next to it. His husband glanced up, realization dawning on his features when he identified who stood there.

“Lance,” he greeted, face soft and pleasant. Keith looked happy to see Lance, the skin around his eyes crinkling cutely. His husband, however, gave him a pair of hurt, furrowed brows, and something else clicked in Keith’s head. “Oh, man. I’m so sorry.” It sounded genuine enough. “I didn’t mean to- I just. We got caught up in what we were doing, I’m sorry.” His face seemed genuine, too. It contorted in emotional discomfort and a plea for forgiveness. Lance found it very hard to be mad at the guilt dripping from his features. He shook his head.

“It’s alright.” The words came out weak, barely audible. “Don’t scare me like that anymore, okay? Call me, text me, something, please.”

Keith nodded. “Of course.”

Lance shifted uncomfortably, bouncing from one foot to the other. “So, we have a mission in an hour. Did you want to get changed into our suits?” His husband glanced back at his computer screen briefly, before agreeing to the proposition.

There was a sort of locker room in this part of the building. It was a room for soldiers to change from their battle gear to their work clothes, or vise versa. The two had walked there almost silently. Keith was never one to start idle chatter, but Lance wasn’t feeling well enough to talk and fill the soundlessness like he usually would. His hands were shaking and he had a muffled realization that it was probably because he hadn’t eaten in about twenty four hours. Weariness was nipping at his heels and making quick strides to catch up with his addled brain.

He swayed to one side, catching himself on the wall. Standing against it for a moment, he blinked the floor in front of him back into focus. Keith had rushed over and gripped his shoulders tightly. Not aggressively, just enough to keep him upright should he wobble again. And he did, as he tried to take a step forward but ended up tottering side to side.

Pulling the man closer, Keith asked, “Lance, are you alright?” To which he nodded, flashing an easygoing grin.

“Yeah, my head’s just fuzzy.” He gently lifted Keith’s hands from his shoulders, resuming his forward march. Lance had only made it a step or so when his eyesight felt as if it was shaking back and forth, like his brain was spinning in his skull. Heartbeat faster than it should have been, his arms were shaking the same way it felt like his brain was. He gripped his wrist in an attempt to get the pulse to slow. His husband came closer again, even more concerned than before.

“Are you okay to go on this mission? Are you sick or something? I’m sure I could get Hunk or Pidge to come, if you need-”

“No, no! I’m fine!” He was determined not to be dead weight and his hasty response reflected that. He was trying, but he still couldn’t muster the stomach to eat, which he knew was the source of all his current problems. Low blood sugar, he figured.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Keith said, tone low in a way that bordered on sounding frustrated. He placed the back of his hand against Lance’s forehead. Finding its temperature normal, he started asking more questions. “Did you get enough sleep last night?”

Lance groaned when his head spun again. “You’re one to talk, you were working all last night,” he murmured, running his hands through his hair, like that would ease his headache. He shifted his gaze to Keith long enough to see the guilt flit across his face. “But yeah, I got a few hours.”

With a disapproving look, “How many?”

“Two? Three? I don’t know, but enough.”

Keith was unconvinced, but he relented. “Fine, what did you end up having for dinner? Anything with actual nutritional value?”

“Ugh, quit playing doctor, I’m _fine,_ Keith.” He tried to nudge his husband away, but the black paladin held firm.

“Lance, please!” Keith sounded desperate, and Lance looked up from the floor to lock eyes with him. His heart gave out at the pathetic puppy eyes Keith was unwittingly giving him. He sighed, before turning his gaze back to the ground.

“I didn’t,” he answered.

“You didn’t? Didn’t eat dinner?” Lance nodded, knowing he was about to get an earful. “Did you at least have breakfast?” His head sunk lower, as if he was trying to hide it within his shoulders, like a turtle trying to duck into its shell. His shameful expression remained completely visible to Keith, regardless. The man huffed. “Why didn’t you eat?”

A shrug. “I wasn’t hungry.”

Keith knew damn well that was a lie, he’d heard Lance’s stomach growl before he left. Finding himself beginning to feel stressed, he considered giving his husband the earful he deserved, but that wasn’t his priority at the moment, so he decided against it. “Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulders and changing their course of direction. “Let’s get you something to eat, then.” The shaking in Lance’s body was suddenly very obvious to Keith. He really did need to eat.

They made a stop in the staff room to get a bagel and some coffee for Lance, before they finally made it to the locker room they initially set out for. Once there, Keith made sure the food was eaten, watching his husband take each bite. Then, they both suited up in their paladin gear and went over the mission outline. It was simple stuff; they just had to fly to a jungle planet a little ways away (by wormhole standards) and collect a few resources.

After they had finished preparing, they still had about half an hour before they had to be anywhere, and neither wanted to head back to desk work. So, they stayed in the prep room, lounging in one of the sofas next to each other. Lance’s head fell against Keith’s shoulder, the lack of sleep finally overwhelming his senses enough to allow it. He pressed his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck, and the other man merely lifted his hand to scratch Lance’s hair in response. The red paladin fell asleep almost instantly after that and napped the rest of their prep time.

The black paladin woke him up about ten minutes before lift off by poking his cheek with a cheese stick. Lance groaned and Keith didn’t know if it was because he was still tired, or because he didn’t want the food. It was probably both.

“C’mon, Lance. You need some protein in your system, you’re about to go on a mission.” Lance begrudgingly accepted the food, being sure to roll his eyes before each bite so Keith knew how annoyed he was at the babying. Keith only smiled, happy to know his husband wouldn’t be running on fumes in a foreign environment. Despite the brunet’s moody act, he was thrilled to be getting attention, since it solidified the fact that Keith still loved him in his mind.

They left the locker room, hands intertwined and hearts full.

Upon reaching the hangar, Lance made eye contact with Iverson, who was planning on seeing the two paladins off. The tall man made wide and hasty strides towards the pair, cleared his throat, and finally, his words filled the air. They were loud enough to occupy the whole room.

“McClain,” he bellowed, though not in as much of an aggressive manner as he used to. “About what you requested.” The black paladin very keenly noticed the momentary panic that crossed Lance’s features. His gaze had shot out next to him, frantically meeting Keith’s.

“Oh, right.” He turned to face Keith fully. “You go on ahead, I’ll catch up.” The man reluctantly agreed, some protective instinct telling him not to leave his husband alone after looking so scared mere seconds prior. But he did as suggested, heavy footfalls leading him slowly to his lion, his heels dragging in hopes of hearing a snippet of their conversation. He had no luck.

Iverson had told Lance he’d found some more difficult missions for Lance to go on, should he accept them. He did so without hesitation. The first of these missions was tomorrow, but Lance was confident today’s standard mission wouldn’t give him much, if any, trouble. Iverson left, and Lance was happy to say his plan was in motion. He’d take these missions, and the bonuses or raises that would undoubtedly accompany them, and he wouldn’t tell Keith. The missions were more dangerous, he’d been informed, so he knew Keith would be against his acceptance, no matter how much he’d like the extra money.

He didn’t want the money, but Lance wasn’t aware of that. To Lance, his plan was the perfect solution to the problem. The problem he’d misidentified from the start.

The brunet was giddy when he climbed into his lion and put on his helmet. He kept his mirth as they wormhole jumped to the mission. He and Keith stepped back out of their lions and into the breathable atmosphere. They removed their helmets and were instantly hit with a wave of humidity that wormed its way into their lungs. Despite the miserable climate, Lance couldn’t seem to find it in himself to be unhappy. He’d found a solution. He bounded up to his husband and laced their fingers together again. Keith was surprised, but he returned the grip with a soft curve to his face, content with the new knowledge that whatever news Lance had received from Iverson was good news.

They were looking for a certain variety of flower. There was supposed to be a large field of them in the area, and they needed to collect a few bags full, so they could bring it home to be made into medicine. The mission was simple, but Keith wasn’t having as much fun as Lance seemed to be. The humidity of the planet was not as agreeable for him. His skin seemed sticky and the hot air made it feel like someone was breathing against him every time his hair would bounce and force a gush of it against his neck. He focused on Lance to distract himself.

He was tugging Keith along like he was a dog being taken for a walk. Every now and then he’d turn his head to flash a heartstopping grin, and Keith felt his skin’s temperature rise closer to the planet’s every time he did. Lance turned around completely, gripping both of his husband’s hands, but keeping his quick pace. The black paladin feared he would misstep and lose his balance, as he wasn’t watching where he was going, but his path was unfaltered for the few seconds he was walking backwards.

Turning forward once again, he freed both of his hands to weave between different plants, holding vines up for Keith to pass under. Then, he’d jog right back ahead, hips swinging to miss every plant that stuck a little too far into the path. It was mesmerizing, the way he wound around each obstacle like it was a well choreographed dance. He was fluid, quick on his toes, dodging more invading plants without thinking than Keith could ever dodge, even at his most focused. Which was certainly not now, by the way. No, not with the way his husband’s hips were swaying.

“You’re so graceful,” he breathed, still distracted by the tantalizing dance. “Elegant, even.” Lance only laughed, a cute chirp, with cheeks pressed upwards. That only made Keith’s struggle harder. He was just too cute. His heart picked up pace, driven by the quiet tenderness in the laugh his husband gave, and the gentle endearment behind his smile.

God, he couldn’t breathe. Not while seeing the warm sparkle in Lance’s eyes as he stopped moving forward and began to wait for Keith. His smiling lips looked extra kissable. Keith was certain that was intentional when he caught up and Lance reached his hands towards his lover’s face.

The black paladin’s head began pounding, a distinctly Galra feeling he’d grown quicker at spotting and identifying. He dipped his neck, bringing the helmet up over his hair and dragging it down past his chin. He lifted his shaded gaze just in time to see Lance lean back, looking dejected. The brunet had brought a hand to his lips, the smile behind faltering for a second, before he’d turned back forward.

In an attempt to salvage the purity of their previous exchange, Keith reached forward and grabbed Lance’s wrist. The man didn’t tug away like Keith half expected him to. Instead, he cautiously linked their hands together, looking back with a watery gaze. Guilt washed over Keith. He pulled Lance closer, halting their advance entirely, and pressed his helmet against the red paladin's forehead. Knowing his husband couldn’t see his apologetic expression through the visor, he was aware he had to express his regrets verbally.

“I didn’t realize--” his words stuttered to a stop as he realized the watery gaze was worsening. “It’s hot and I thought my helmet would help,” he lied effortlessly. “I didn’t notice you wanted a kiss until after. I’ll make it up to you when it’s not sticky and gross out, okay?” The stare remained glassy, but Lance nodded, a little placated. He lifted his empty hand to hold Lance’s cheek gently. Judging by the way he leaned into the caress, he wasn’t mad, at least. That would have to be enough for Keith.

The rest of the trek to the flower field went well, albeit with less laughter. The black paladin kept a tight grip on Lance’s hand the whole way; it felt fragile in his hold. When they’d made it to the field, the brunet had cheered up immensely and it was no wonder why. Charming petals of azure and viridian littered the ground and spiraled up caramel stems. Even the ever-stoic Keith found himself drawn in by the shimmering flora. He knew it was a mission for work, but it couldn’t hurt to goof off a little, right? At least once the job part was done…

They filled four pillowcase sized bags with the flowers, half with the blue, half with the green, then they plopped down in the area they’d cleared. Lance leaned against Keith’s shoulder, running his hands along the soft grass, or whatever the locals called the greenery beneath his fingertips. He breathed in, relishing the sweet, strawberry-like scent rising from the freshly uprooted flowers.

“Keith?” The man hummed in answer, eyes closed peacefully, but face obscured by the tint of his helmet. “Earlier, you said I was graceful?” Keith let out another soft rumble from his chest in agreement, which, to Lance, sounded deep and foreign in the calm and sugary air. The brooding tone didn’t fit with the tranquil scenery, but at the same time, it did, since it was Keith. Next to Lance, he’d always fit, no matter where the two were. He fit in with Lance, so the dark tone of his voice mellowed out to match the scenery just fine, by some miracle.

“I did,” he murmured.

“Well, I…” There was a sharp breath. “I don’t agree, but, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to ask, is, ah, one day I’m going to be old and my bones will creak and there won’t even be a point in arguing that I’m graceful. When that day comes, are you still going to love me?”

Now, this was the third time Lance had asked such a question in three days. It was concerning, but Keith didn’t know any way to approach the spoken insecurities other than simply refuting them. Which wasn’t the wrong choice, per se, but it obviously wasn’t really the best choice either, since the shaky pleas for reassurance kept resurfacing. Keith had a tendency to be dense, so he was unaware of the fact that _he_ was the one triggering the reappearances, with his poorly conceived lies.

His pulse was no longer throbbing behind his eyes, so he deemed it safe to remove his helmet. He did so, shaking his hair out like some kind of model at the same time. Then, he turned to his husband and began to answer in the softest and most love-filled voice he could muster.

“Lance,” he purred, reaching slowly out to rest his palm against the back of his lover’s neck. “I am _never_ going to stop loving you.” The conviction and honesty in his voice brought tears to Lance’s eyes. The fact that he believed, so strongly, that he was never going to tire of Lance, no matter how drab and gross he got, was enough to have Lance believing it, too.

His breath caught in his throat, producing an embarrassingly loud hiccuping noise.

Keith had looked him dead in the eye, with such determination. He held onto the sincere look, even now, after he’d finished speaking. His grip remained ever present and ginger on the back of Lance’s neck. His fingers curled to tangle in the tufts of hair at the base of his scalp.

“I’ll always love you, grace or no grace.”

With that, he nudged Lance forward to give him the kiss he’d dodged earlier. His lips felt thinner, somehow, and warmer in some places. When Keith got a hint of a metallic taste, he understood the reason was that Lance had been anxiously nibbling the fragile skin. The kiss was slow an unassuming, Lance reaching tentatively up to ground himself with fingers in his husband’s hair. It was soft, coming to an end with eyelids lingering shut. Keith’s opened first, unhurriedly, but in a single stroke. Then came Lance’s, fluttering quickly, but ultimately slow to completely reveal his eyes.

His eyes matched the blue flowers behind him, Keith noted. So, he plucked one more, nestling it delicately between his lover’s ear and his hair. Its freshly picked smell mingled with Lance’s naturally sweet and calming one. Both became indistinguishable from the light, honeyed scent of his shampoo as Keith let another kiss land against his hair.

Lance let the glass fall from his eyes.

Keith wordlessly wiped each tear with a soft sweep of the pad of his thumb.

They both made it home alright, that afternoon. No more Galra incidents, which Keith was grateful for, and no more tears. Their work day was over, by the time they landed on Earth, and they went home hand in hand. They ate dinner together, they unwound from their day with TV together, and they fell asleep together.  

Everything felt exactly as it should be.

Even though Keith knew something was _definitely_ not as it should have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith this chapter: I love you, biiitch! I ain't gonna never stop lovin' you... biiitch
> 
> Thank you for reading, tell me how I'm doing so far! :-)
> 
> And if you have any requests, I have a tumblr [here!](https://cakepopple.tumblr.com/) I'd love to see them, and any fanart, so please send them there!


	4. Wounds of the flesh to hide wounds of the heart

At the front of Keith’s mind, he knew it was midnight. Somewhere deeper, though, he clearly didn’t care, since he found himself staring up at the ceiling regardless. In all honesty, he shouldn’t have had any trouble falling asleep; he hadn’t slept at all the night prior and, quite frankly, he was exhausted. Guilt had been wearing both his patience and energy thin. But even with the warmth of his husband against his chest and the comfort of the expensive mattress Lance insisted on getting beneath him, sleep seemed to dodge every one of his advances.

Stress was keeping his pulse thrumming a little too fast, his ears listening a little too closely, and his mind thinking a _lot_ too negatively. He needed to solve his Galra issue soon, because he couldn’t keep lying like this. It had only been a couple days of it and he already felt awful, so much so that the few hours he actually managed to sleep were plagued by thoughts of guilt. He could only seem to think about the hurt look he’d see in Lance’s eyes if he found out, sad and pathetic and _pleading,_ like a dog who’d been left out all night in the cold rain. It was haunting, really.

Dammit, he’d do anything for a solution at this point. Keith just couldn’t keep doing this. But he also couldn’t solve this problem on his own, by the looks of it, and there weren’t exactly any other human-Galra hybrids to ask for help, either. God, he hated this.

Grunting in frustration, he shifted his position under the blanket. Lance stirred in his arms briefly, eyes flickering open to gaze at Keith in confusion and concern. His eyebrows pulled together, probably as he noticed his husband was wide awake despite the hour, and he reached a hand up to trace circles across the curves of black under Keith’s eyes. Hands moving next to drag through his raven hair, he wore a look similar to the one tormenting the black paladin’s mind, weary and oh so desperate.

“You alright?” His voice was groggy and it cracked between words from underuse. Soft fingers continued to knead his scalp and, had he not been so troubled, Keith would likely have drifted off right then. “Why aren’t you asleep?” The tone of his question flowed like cream, smoothly and sweetly, so despite the possible accusatory nature of the inquiry, it was clearly meant to be loving.

“‘M fine,” he answered, pressing his fingers to Lance’s scalp as though he were indeed the puppy his imploring eyes seemed to suggest he was. “Sorry to wake you, babe.” The brunet hid his gaze behind heavy eyelids and leaned into Keith’s touch, his own fingers slowing. He hummed, looking as though he was about to fall back asleep, before he shook himself out of it.

Pushing himself up from resting on top of Keith, he grew more concerned and came to his own conclusions as to why his husband was awake. “Is this uncomfortable for you?” The man still under his hands said nothing, instead processing what exactly Lance had meant. “Oh, you should have told me,” he breathed, sitting up on his knees to remove his weight from Keith entirely. He was tugged back down quickly.

“No, that’s not it. You’re fine,” the black paladin responded, voice untouched by the same drowsiness Lance’s had been. “I just…” Inspiration happened to strike him in that moment. A plausible solution to his biggest problem fell right into his lap. “I wanted to ask my mom about something,” he began, words slow as he pieced his plan together. He internally added,  _to see if she knows how to fix my transformations_ , before he continued out loud. “But I don’t get any time off until Saturday.”

The man in his arms blinked in a sluggish manner, before realization flitted across his features. “You could call in sick.” He nuzzled into Keith’s neck, then added, “I’ll cover for you.”

“You would?”

“If it’s important enough that it’s keeping you up at night, obviously I’ll do what I can to help.” Keith kissed Lance’s hairline in thanks. After that, he pulled the man closer, wrapping his arms about his waist gingerly. With the prospect of a solution on the horizon, it was a lot easier to sleep.

The alarm was too loud the next morning, and Lance was reluctant to get out of bed. He ducked closer to Keith, trailing his nose along the collarbones poking out from under his nightshirt. Then he remembered it was the day of his special mission, and he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he had no time to dawdle.

Keith left with a chaste kiss to his forehead, taking his bike to visit his mother, and Lance followed him out, driving the car to work. When Lance got to the Garrison, Iverson immediately rushed him to the hangar, briefing him on his mission while they walked. Despite the defeat of Sendak, there were still bandits and intergalactic thugs running amuck and causing trouble, and Iverson had done a bit of digging to locate one of their bases. He deemed it dangerous enough to warrant a paladin, so taking it down was the mission he gave to Lance.

“Oh, and McClain,” Iverson said as Lance began to board his lion, the latter turning around to meet his stare. “I really appreciate you taking the initiative and offering to do this. As long as everything goes well, you have another mission and a bonus in your future.” The red paladin beamed, giving Iverson a lax salute before heading off on his mission. He had the fleeting thought of giving Keith a call or something, just in case the assignment went awry, but, against his better judgement, he decided letting his husband know his plans was too risky.

So, he left Earth without a word.

Keith lived pretty close to his mother; she hadn’t wanted to be far after spending decades of his life literal galaxies away. As a result, it hadn’t taken him long to make it to her house and pull up in her driveway. He hadn’t asked if he could visit, but the surprised upturn of her lips when she opened the door to see him was evidence enough that she didn’t mind.

They exchanged smalltalk in the living room for a while. Krolia asked about his work and received a wrinkled nose, Keith asked about her time off between Blade assignments only to get the same face. Keith was dreading the start of the conversation he inevitably needed to bring up. He dragged his feet, clinging to the idle chit chat as long as he could.

“So,” the woman resumed her smile, “how is Lance?”

Krolia had always liked Lance. Her son had told her a bit about him while in the abyss, and he spoke a little bitterly, but ultimately with a fond rise and fall to his voice. She recognized the nostalgic gleam in his eyes as he pretended to dislike his playful banter with the red paladin. She recognized it as something more than disdain.

When she finally met the brunet for the first time, she understood Keith’s reluctance to admit attachment; Lance had initially seemed entirely immature and like someone who lacked the ability to focus at all. He appeared to be a poor choice in paladin. But then, the longer she knew him, the more she saw his startlingly large amount of focus and unwavering determination to improve, and thus, her opinion changed. He was the _perfect_ choice in paladin: someone always striving to be better, aiming to help more people.

“He’s great,” Keith answered, voice breathy and eyes softer. His eyebrows seemed to fall lower on his face, relaxing against the curve of his eyelids. As Keith let his mind dwell more on the husband he thought so affectionately of, his head began to ache in that Galra way ever so slightly, with a pressing feeling light between the eyebrows he’d just unfurled. “Actually,” he murmured, trying to ease his head away from the persistent throbbing it was quickly approaching. “I came to ask about that. Kind of.”

Krolia appeared intrigued, leaning forward in her chair across from him, her elbows landing on her knees and her head falling onto open palms.

“My knowledge is limited, but I’ll answer what I can,” she said calmly.

“I think I told you about how I get more… Galra-ish features when I’m frustrated.” His mother nodded. “Well, it’s been happening a lot around Lance-”

Panic seemed to flood her eyes and voice. “Have you and Lance been fighting?”

“No!” His answer bordered on _too_ hasty. “No, that’s why I’m concerned. It’s been happening when I’m _happy,_ not when I’m angry. I was hoping you knew why?” He looked optimistically into her gaze, flashing an uncertain grin as he did so.

“I always have ‘Galra-ish’ features, so I’m not much help here.” Keith’s face fell. “But perhaps I can find some of the Blade members who aren’t purely Galra and ask if they’ve experienced anything similar.” His face lifted again, hope worming its way back up his spine and fixing his slacking posture.

“Thank you,” he said.

After that, they discussed small details of their lives for a couple hours more, until it was time for Keith to go home again. He bid his mother farewell and went outside to hop on his bike. Lance should have just gotten out of work, so the black paladin pulled out his phone to shoot him a text. His husband was usually quick to answer his messages, but after about five minutes of whiling away time on his phone with no response, Keith assumed the man was driving and revved up his own engine to do the same.

Upon entering their shared house and finding it entirely empty, he learned his assumption had been wrong. Unless something had happened-- Oh God, what if something had happened? He whipped his phone out again, stumbling to dial Hunk. He was Lance’s best friend (well, aside from himself, Keith would proudly declare), surely he would know if Lance had left the Garrison or not.

“Lance? No, I haven’t seen him all day. I’m pretty sure he had a mission. I don’t even know if he’s come back, yet.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Keith was quick to thank his friend and teammate, and just as quick to hang up after the fact. He followed that action with pacing back and forth along the floorboards. A mission? They just had one yesterday and they very rarely had back to back major assignments. Oh, no. What if something had gone wrong due to Keith’s absence and Lance had to pick up the slack? Oh, what if he got hurt because of that? _Because of me,_ his subconscious connected, much to his dismay.

The poor man spent another hour dragging his mind through different what if scenarios, each more devastating than the last. His brain was throbbing, almost drowned in the negativity, by the time he heard the door open. Head whipping towards the noise, he was simultaneously relieved and horrified by the sight. There his husband was, standing with a smile in the doorway, but _good lord,_ at what cost?

Dried blood clung to his cheeks and bruises littered every inch of uncovered skin, but Keith was sure they weren’t limited only to the visible skin. And if he’d said he walked in, he was giving the brunet too much credit with the way he staggered against the doorframe. But his eyes gleamed, joy sprinkled across each and every injury on his stumbling form. He managed to make it over to his horrified husband, passing a piece of paper into his frozen, outstretched hands. Keith’s line of vision fell to the sheet, stomach churning with the dull awareness of a splotch of blood in one of the upper corners.

His brain was faintly conscious of the money signs across the page, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, focus on them. Jesus, how the hell could he? Lance fumbled with his hands as though distracting himself from something. The grimace that passed his features alerted Keith that the distraction was from pain.

Stuffing the paper onto the counter behind him, he lurched forward to cradle Lance’s face.

“What the _fuck_ happened?” His words were the hisses of a furious snake; they were opposite the manner in which he brushed his thumb over a split in his husband’s bottom lip, cringing at the wince it elicited. He steadied his breathing, trying to calm the drumbeat behind his eyes. He couldn’t afford to leave Lance like this… it simply wasn’t an option. Galra eyes weren’t an option. “How the shit did you get all these injuries?”

Lance laughed an airy giggle, brushing Keith’s hands from his face and holding them in his own. His eyes were filled with nothing but mirth, the black paladin’s whole body swimming with confusion at the observation. Covered head to toe in cuts and bruises, but looking like he just won the goddamn lottery. It just didn’t make sense.

“I had a mission today--to take out one of those thug bases. It went a little off course, hence this,” he nodded to himself and the way he was battered and bleeding. “But I still looked like a _total_ badass!” He went to step away from Keith, but to no avail, said man holding tight to his wrist.

“You what? A whole base? Did your teammates not back you up?” He swung his free arm down, sweeping over Lance’s whole body in a vague gesture. “How did you get this beat up?” Tears sprang to his eyes, regret washing over him. He should have been there. His lungs were burning with the strain to keep from sobbing.

“Oh, it was a solo mission. These are all the fault of yours truly, so don’t go picking fights with our coworkers, mmkay?” He laughed again, but Keith saw nothing funny in the blood caked across his skin.

“You--” He sucked in a hot breath of air, scalding his lungs further. He was at a loss for words. He was enraged, but he wasn’t sure at whom to direct the anger. It wasn’t Lance, he knew, as he looked into his sparkling eyes and felt nothing but pain for the cuts around them. Keith leapt forward, swinging his arms about Lance’s waist. “For the love of _God,_ Lance,” he hissed again, tears catching on the bulge of his lips, swollen from the hours of concerned nibbling. “You have _got_ to be more careful.” He pulled back, teary eyes meeting with Lance’s, the latter mirroring the former as soon as they met. “I can’t lose you,” he croaked.

Guilt swarmed Lance. He knew the feeling. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” Keith hated the way he put it, words filled with self loathing coming from the man he loved more than anyone else. “Just, please, don’t leave me.” That sentence came out almost too quiet to notice at all, and definitely too quiet to make everything out. Keith could only pick up on the desperation in his husband’s voice, but even so, that was all he needed to hear. He resumed his tight grip on Lance’s wrist, dragging him to the bathroom.

The brunet hesitantly allowed Keith to address his wounds, silent as he did so. He also let his husband cook him dinner because the deep scrapes across the palms of his hands made the mere _thought_ of cooking too painful to bear. Though he’d never admit that reasoning aloud. Keith appeared frightened enough as it was; he didn’t need to know about the pain, lest he get even more protective.

Dinner was good, a fact Lance happily let Keith in on. It was late by the time they’d finished, so they went straight to bed afterwards. Lance was tired, anyway, and he was sure Keith felt the same. The brunet had placed himself entirely in his husband’s lap, facing the man who’d busied himself with a book to ease himself towards drowsiness. Lance could have slept then, and God, his heavy eyelids had begged him to, but the man in front of him looked too cute to resist. Burying his nose in the crook of his neck, he breathed in contentedly. The scent he was met with was one of mint, feathery and tickling the inside of his nose with a pleasant, herbal smell. Perhaps he’d picked up a new shampoo to fit the holidays.

He pressed a kiss, one as feathery as the new scent, against the pale and silky skin along his neck. Keith made a hum of acknowledgement, carding a hand through Lance’s hair affectionately, but keeping his focus trained solely on his book. Lance released a puff of warm air, though, and Keith felt his attention begin to shift, book losing to his husband royally when the man let another kiss fall against the sharp edge of his jaw. The black paladin could feel the split in Lance’s lip, but he couldn’t focus on it with the way it brushed gently against all the sensitive parts of his neck.

Nudging Lance back slightly, he was met with half lidded eyes, innocent and as pleading as ever. Some deep part of his mind refused to give in, however, deciding instead to teach Lance not to distract him when he was reading. He pushed his husband forward in order to give him the same cruel treatment. Maybe it was some protective crevice in his subconscious, telling him not to let his lover agitate his cut lip.

He dipped his head to first let a cloud of humid breath blow against Lance’s ear, relishing the shudder that he felt consume his husband in response. Then he put his lips where he’d breathed, proud to feel the skin heat more with every second he let them linger. Trailing a few open mouth kisses downward, he heard Lance’s lungs fail to function for a moment. This was too easy. He smiled and let his teeth brush over an uninjured inch of skin, the man in his lap whining and going rigid at the contact. Keith let his gaze flit up to Lance’s face and his body went hot at the sight. His head was tilted to one side, baring his neck to Keith’s ministrations, and he looked deliciously vulnerable. His eyes were shut tightly, mouth hanging open to let out unbearably shaky breaths. Keith tongued the patch of unwounded skin behind his jaw and beneath his ear, sparks running up his spine at the delectable way his husband’s mouth slammed shut to smother an airy moan.

“It’s distracting,” Keith whispered against his ear, smugness swarming the words, “isn’t it?” The brunet nodded slowly, eyes still glued shut, and the black paladin was uncertain of whether the man had even heard what he’d asked, or if he was simply letting the pleasure clouding his mind do the talking. Either way, Keith deemed his point proven and he resumed focus on his book, now confident Lance wouldn’t start anything more.

It took Lance a few seconds to notice the shift of attention, “Keith.” His tone would have left Keith’s knees weak, had he been standing. It was a sultry beg and he knew he wouldn’t be able to deny Lance anything, should he ask. As it turns out, he didn’t even need to ask. Keith had placed his book down, finding his lips back against Lance’s skin almost immediately upon seeing the dazed look across his face.

All of his kisses were chaste, though you wouldn’t be able to tell from the pleased hums he was getting. While still innocent, some of the kisses persisted, Keith too smitten with the noises dripping from Lance’s lips to move on quite yet. The sounds were quiet, mostly sighs of contentment and the like. Keith considered if the reason Lance was so satisfied with the small signs of tenderness was that he was feeling touch starved. He was, if the pliancy was any indication. Keith had been acting distant and the man supposed his affection was a tad lacking as a result.

After a while, he pulled back entirely, finding himself just as sated by the bloom of red across Lance’s cheeks as Lance was sated by the lingering warmth beneath the skin of his neck. When the brunet’s eyes finally reopened, they were no longer shining desperately, pleading for any sort of emotional intimacy; they were somehow brighter, shimmering instead with fulfillment. His lips began to curl in some sort of apology, Keith could tell, but he wasn’t having it.

Landing another kiss against the guilt ridden lips, he said, “I never mind, so don’t you apologize for wanting it.” Lance nodded, pleased with the way Keith knew him well enough to read his mannerisms and practically his mind. He reached up to play with Keith’s hair, wrapping strands of it around his fingers as his eyes seemed to droop more. Keith let him do it, closing his eyes.

Lance had been weaving tiny braids into his locks for about five minutes, when Keith prodded his hands away to cradle them in his own. He stared at the cuts along the fingertips, recognizing them as ones that come from catching yourself after a big fall. He’d eventually drag the details of the mission out of Lance, but tonight was not the night for that. Instead, bringing each finger to his lips one at a time, he kissed every inch of wounded flesh with furrowed eyebrows.

“Your hands are capable of such beautiful things,” he murmured, the sounds coming out softer than he was accustomed to. He was usually relatively blunt and harsh in his wording of opinions, but something changed during the two years he was away from Lance, and he now found the man near impossible to be brash with. Keith wasn’t sure if it was he who had changed, or if it was just how much sadder Lance seemed to be upon his return, but either way, he’d become quite the romantic. And he should have hated it.

But he didn’t.

Lance scoffed in response to Keith’s words. “You’re so cheesy!” Despite the undignified noise before the sentence, he was smiling down at Keith from his perch atop his lap. The smile fell momentarily. “But what if they weren’t?” His gaze was now indubitably focused on the cuts and bruises making a mess of his typically buttery, soft skin. Keith saw the path this conversation was heading down, but he could do nothing to stop it. “Would you still love them?”

The black paladin lunged forward to capture Lance’s lips in another kiss, desperate to convince Lance of the fact that he loved him, all of him, regardless of what flaws he bore. This set of rapid fire kisses became deeper than the rest. He released Lance’s hands to cup the back of his head instead, swiping his tongue along the split bottom lip within a second of latching on. His husband was startled by the sudden burst of fiery affection, but he surrendered to it with little hesitation. He tilted his head for a better angle when Keith dipped his tongue in and dragged it along the roof of his mouth. The moment tasted like toothpaste, but neither minded.

Pulling back, Keith gripped his head firmly and looked into his eyes with the same burning passion he’d kissed him with seconds prior. Lance continued his unconvinced and insecure appearance. “What do I have to do,” Keith panted against the swell of his husband’s lips, “to prove this to you?” He dipped his head in shame fleetingly, before dragging Lance back in, ignoring the confused shine to his features. The brunet’s hands flew to a panicked grip on his shoulders when Keith fell backwards and deeper into the stack of pillows beneath his spine. It was a start he took advantage of, kissing deeper and receiving a quiet moan, one he swallowed eagerly. If Lance’s lips weren’t swollen before they started kissing, they certainly were by the time they pulled apart again. A wave of guilt drowned Keith's heart when he saw the blood pooling in the crack of Lance’s lip. Perhaps he’d been too aggressive.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, kissing the injury with a breezy, light touch and collecting the blood on his own lips. He absentmindedly dragged his tongue across the puddle, flinching at the taste of copper. “I just don’t know how to show you. I love you so much,” he shut his eyes tightly, trying to suck tears back behind his eyes. “Your hands are part of you, I’ll always love them--I’ll always love _you,_ I just want you to know I mean that.” He was unsuccessful in his attempt to keep the tears at bay, and his voice got quiet and wobbly. “How do I convince you I mean that?”

His head whipped up when he heard Lance hiccup, hands quick to grip his cheeks. He did so with such a gentle grip, as uncharacteristically soft as he always was with Lance, so as not to agitate the wounds. Had he done something wrong? Lance choked again and Keith worked speedily to pick up the tears under his eyes.

“Sorry,” Lance said, words catching in his throat. “That--that was fine. For convincing, I mean. I,” a weak whine tumbled out of his mouth, “I love you too. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be,” Keith reminded. Lance nodded tiredly, leaning further against Keith. All of the kisses and honest words seemed to have tuckered the red paladin out, since he curled along Keith’s chest like a cat the moment the conversation slowed. Similarly, Keith had been exhausted by all the worrying and, gingerly turning so he could cradle Lance on his side instead, he began to drift off as well. He fell peacefully asleep to the feeling of warm breath along his collarbones.

The comfortable sleep would be short lived, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0 uh oh!!
> 
> Next chapter is the last one! Hope you're ready! >;)


	5. The swell of tears and the swell of affection feel very much the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI! There's blood in this chapter, but it's nothing all that graphic. Just giving you a warning!
> 
> get ready for the angst train to fluff-ville

Keith was glad he’d ended up falling asleep spooning Lance on his side, otherwise he would have had to wake him to get out from under him when his phone rang. The black paladin startled awake, glancing first at the clock reading only 11:00 PM, and then at the phone buzzing on the nightside table. Seeing the incoming call was from his mom, he withdrew his hands from the warmth of Lance’s snoozing figure and took the phone into the hall. He wore an envious look when the cold climbed from the tile floor onto his feet, while his husband remained pleasantly asleep and warmed by Keith’s lingering body heat. Even with his jealousy, though, Keith answered the call so as not to wake him with the shrill cries of the device.

“Is it too late to be calling?” His mother sounded wide awake, despite how dark the sky outside was. Keith grunted in a way that didn’t quite discern an answer. “Sorry, I just wanted to get back to you about that question you asked.” Keith was completely conscious the moment he heard that. “Turns out what you’ve been experiencing is actually fairly common. In a lot of partial Galrans, it’s typical for strong emotions to strengthen the Galra traits and weaken the other race’s.”

“Right, like when I was stressed and panicking while fighting Shiro.” He felt a little let down, coming to terms with the fact that he had learned nothing new. Damn, no progress after all.

“Correct. However it’s not limited to negative emotions, Keith.”

“So what else does it include? Confusion?”

Krolia made an unhappy noise as if to say “ugh, feelings,” before continuing her explanation.

“I mean like love.” Keith said nothing. That was certainly not good. He couldn’t really avoid that feeling or go to therapy to work on handling it; he didn’t _want_ to either. He _loved loving_ Lance. “And no, there’s not really a solution. It gets worse with age, from what I’ve heard, but I wouldn’t worry too much.” She was stumbling over her words, Keith’s lack of response alerting her to his wave of panic. “Earth’s become surprisingly accepting of Galra, despite the war--”

The black paladin had hung up. He felt bad, but the dread climbing up his throat made it hard to breathe, let alone talk. There was no solution. It was so much worse than what he’d decided his worst case scenario would be, and he had no idea what to do about it. Shifting his stare nervously to the sleeping man a mere doorframe away, he felt the hysteria take the form of a strong pulse behind his eyes. Reentering the room and abandoning his phone on the bedside table, he leaned over his husband, a forlorn look in his eyes. His hand reached tentatively out, brushing a few strands of chestnut hair away from his lover’s covered gaze, and he briefly thought he could simply wake Lance and tell him the issue then. Terror struck anew at the possible reactions he’d receive and it had him quickly withdrawing his wandering fingertips.

Could Lance even love someone who wasn’t human? Sure, he knew Keith was half Galra, but the physical traits would be different. He had no way of knowing how it would affect his temperament, either. Scrambling back from the bedside, he felt his eyes turn again and he scurried mindlessly to the doorway. God, he needed to clear his head. Surely Lance would cover for him should he take another day off to sort through his thoughts and concerns. He’d avoid human contact for a little while and work through everything on his own. There had to be a solution they were all missing.

Keith left both his phone and keys inside the house as he trekked aimlessly into the night. What he didn’t leave, however, was a note to Lance. So, when said man stirred at about 2:00 AM and found only cold sheets where his husband had previously slept, he had no explanation to look to. Upon also seeing the abandoned phone and keys, he could only assume the worst. He pressed his back to the headboard and curled his knees to his chest, knuckles turning white in the fervor of his grip around his legs. The tears refused to stop.

He was so wrong. _Dumbass_ , he berated himself. Foolish he had been to believe so passionately that Keith wouldn’t leave. What had he messed up this time? Had he taken too long to notice the money problems? He didn’t know what stung more, the salt of his tears seeping into the cuts along his frantically wiping hands, or the sting of being too late. Keith had left him, probably tired of having to feed two mouths, put a roof over two heads, and share everything when he had always had so little. Lance was _stupid._ Goddamn, how hadn’t he seen it sooner?

The man was ultimately late to work, having passed out a few times while bawling. His head was too light and too heavy at the same time. Everything felt like too much and too little all at once. He was a stumbling, fumbling, contradiction of a man. Yet again, Iverson met Lance immediately upon his entry, though this time, he seemed cross. Lance vaguely credited it to his tardiness, but Iverson said nothing of the sort. He’d opened his mouth as though he was about to snap at the brunet, but when he caught a glimpse of his broken face, he stopped himself.

“Are you alright for this mission?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, and Lance would have cracked a joke like ‘wow you do have a soul’ had he not been so emotionally drained. Instead, he lifted his head enough to correct his posture.

“Yes, sir. I said I’d do it and I’m a man of my word.” Iverson squinted concernedly, then nodded and rushed him to the hangar, like before. Lance had survived through arriving at work without having to go to his office and see Keith a few desks over. Well, even if he had gone to the offices, he wouldn’t have seen his husband. But Lance couldn't have known that, and he was happy to miss the embarrassment of having his lover see his face so mangled with tears. He much prefered mission briefings to mortification. This assignment was similar to the last, the _exact_ same besides the fact that it was a different base he was taking down.

As he moved to take off, he knew his biggest ally was the element of surprise. He’d been wormholed in unexpectedly and had busted through a wall of the base immediately. Leaving his lion came not long after. The best way to take down this base was the self destruct mechanism he knew would be in the control room, so he worked quickly to get there. He did his best to avoid so much as an encounter with any of the bandits along the way, trying to find a groove and pace somewhere between speedy and careful. On the last mission, he’d been better at that, but now his mind was hazy and clogged. His injury count had doubled within minutes of his arrival, and he had hardly made any progress.

Thinking he’d cleared his current room, he went to move onto the next, but a gunshot rang through the air and landed deep in his shoulder. He screamed freely, since he’d been certain to shut his comms off right after leaving his lion. Not that he had a team there to communicate with, anyway. If only he’d left the comms on, though, since Iverson was shouting desperately for a retreat, the enemy count higher in the ship than previously believed.

That was the first of many serious mistakes, as Lance’s advances were sloppy and barely thought through. He made it to the cockpit by some miracle he couldn’t name. Hastily working to initiate the self destruct sequence, he'd missed the clanging footsteps behind him, until another shot lodged into a screen on his left, narrowly avoiding the back of his skull. He spun around quickly, lightheaded at the action, and lifted his gun to face the incoming threat. His shield could only do but so much, and the other injuries had been aimed at his armored chest and shoulders, sparing him from the pain he felt this time, as a shot pierced his stomach with an ache like boiling water across his skin. It burned with such a smolder that Lance was positive the opening had cauterized itself. The quick flow of blood as he finished the enemy off, however, ascertained something else entirely.

His arms shook as he returned the gunshot with one of his own, aimed right through the bandit’s head. His ankles were weak when he tumbled his way back to his lion from the prepped-to-blow cockpit. He fell against the wall more times than he could count, and his brain was flashing images from his past in front of his eyes like he was dying. Memories of Keith were the most common. He could see their first date, and then their first kiss, and then pain bloomed along his spine in recollection of the “bonding moment” Keith was so obsessed with. Pieces of darker memories popped up. Loneliness filled his being with the memory of the Omega Shield and thus the familiar grip of his cold death clawed around his neck. He could see visions of Keith, shouting at him on a dusty battle field, telling him to stay awake, and though it was all in the past, he still found himself attempting to obey the order.

Yet another shot echoed throughout the ship, waking Lance from his stupor, and he was dimly aware of the fact that one if his legs was crumbling under his weight. As he collided with the icy floor a few feet feet from the mouth of his lion, his only blurred thought was, _ha, that’ll show Keith._

He woke up along the paneled ground of his lion and assumed Red had scooped him up before he was blown up with the base. The paladin forced himself up to glance out the front of the ship. The scenery was recognizable as the inside of the Garrison hangar, and he wondered if he’d ever left at all. Glancing to the puddle of blood under his stomach, he easily dispelled the flitting thought.

Iverson was shouting at him about something when Lance managed to hobble out of his lion, but he was only able to make out something about the infirmary, before hands were gripping his arms firmly. He yanked the limbs back, holding them tightly to his chest as he snapped, “‘m fine. I can take myself.” He heard chatter in a reluctant tone, before the heat crowding his form backed away, and he assumed he was being allowed to walk himself. He never did go to the infirmary. No, he’d crawled to his car and had somehow been able to drive the couple minutes home.

He didn’t make it far once there, collapsing against the reddening tile of the bathroom floor. Lance supposed his last thoughts would be about how pathetic that was. How he’d died cold and alone on the filthy floor. A shame that’d be his last memory.

Somewhere else, in a secluded place Keith had barely been able to find, the black paladin had a realization. Only more than twelve hours after his departure did the man figure out the manner in which he left Lance. _He’s injured_ , clicked in his mind. _Holy shit, I left him alone and wounded and--oh jesus, I didn’t even leave a note._ Finally his actions began to catch up with his brain, but it did nothing to help the yellow to his eyes. In fact, it had made it worse when he registered that Lance was already physically distraught, he didn’t need emotional issues on top of that. He disregarded the Galra features on his face in favor of chasing down this newfound panic.

He all but sprinted home. Even so, it took almost ten minutes to get there.

“Lance?” His voice was hopeful, maybe Lance had stayed at home because of his wounds. No response came and he deemed it unlikely. He sprinted past the bathroom to get to his bedroom and subsequently his phone. In his laser focus on that, he entirely missed the dying body across the tiled floor. His fingers tapped frantically along the screen of his phone, waiting eagerly for Hunk to pick up.

“Hey, Keith! How are you, buddy? Still feeling under the weather?”

He ignored the question, posing his own instead, voice still shaking from the exertion of having run home. “Lance,” he choked. “Where is he?”

“Not here. I heard he came back from today’s mission about twenty minutes ago, though.” Keith hung up, pacing back out of the bedroom with fear lacing every step. Unlike before, however, he didn’t miss the man on the bathroom floor. Nor did he miss the striking shade of red along the usually creamy tiles.

“Fuck,” he breathed, falling to his knees and promptly pressing two fingers against where Lance’s pulse should have been. He felt a speeding beat, but it wasn’t Lance’s; it was his own overwhelmed heart heading straight for splitting completely in two. “Fuck, fuck, no, no,” the man agonized, digging his fingers further into Lance’s neck. “Please, no.” A faint pulse came through and the feeling of it mingled with the faster drumbeat inside of him. He remembered his phone was there, and he sloppily dialed 9-1-1, spreading alarmingly large amounts of blood across the screen.

He was going to lose him, he was sure. And he'd never know how. What pierced his stomach so deeply, what had his leg looking a sickening shade of maroon? Another mission, he considered, the newfound information failing to help the way his lungs were stuttering. He kept one hand firm on Lance's spilling stomach and let the other card anxiously through his husband's knotted hair as he pleaded him to stay alive. Lance wasn't allowed to die. Not with his last memories being the ache of a fall onto the floor and the emptiness of an abandoned house. No, he couldn't die here. He  _wouldn't_ die here. He wasn't the type of asshole to make his husband watch him bleed silently out. Lance was the type of asshole to pull through.

God, he had to be.

Keith wouldn't make it if he wasn't.

An ambulance came, the medics startled by a plethora of things when they stumbled into the bathroom. The blood, for starters, but also the yellow eyes of the crying man kneeled on the floor and the sharp teeth that were revealed when he begged them to help.

“Please,” he wailed. “He’s my husband, please, you--you have to do something! Help him, God, please!” Help him they did, rushing him to the hospital with exactly the urgency you’d expect of an ambulance. Despite that, it somehow still seemed too slow for Keith. Even after Lance’s injuries had been properly dealt with and his condition was deemed stable, time still felt like it was dragging. He sat anxiously beside the hospital bed, whiling away time by staring at the sunset outside. When he slowed his shattering heart rate enough, he gazed instead at the way the falling sun filtered beams of light across his husband’s sharp features. The stark edges of his face somehow seemed softer in the golden light, but then again, maybe it wasn’t the glow. Maybe it was the way his injuries seemed to weaken his normally strong presence. Or the way he appeared more fragile with his eyebrows strung so close together in a grimace of pain.

“I’m a dumbass,” Keith sobbed, hanging his shoulders above Lance’s form. His eyes were shut too aggressively to have possibly seen the way Lance woke up to blink slowly at the hunched man. “I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t have possibly seen the lack of fear on Lance’s features, even when the red paladin noticed the sharpness of his teeth. “I took off without telling you.” He couldn’t have possibly seen the lack of disgust. “I was panicking because of all this Galra bullshit, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have run off, I should have been there for you.” Or the swell of concern in Lance’s eyes at the way Keith fearfully reached out and gripped his wrist. “So stupid,” he snapped. “I was worried you wouldn’t want me anymore, not if I was like this. But, God, I made _you_ feel unwanted in my place, didn’t I?”

Pale topaz eyes with slits for pupils were fluttering open and dragging wet eyelashes along the skin above Keith’s eyes. “I became someone awful--I’m not even the man you love anymore, am I?” Keith’s head finally lifted, jaw falling open when he noticed Lance’s very conscious and very attentive face.

“Keith,” the brunet croaked. “Is that what you were worried about all this time? Sharper canines and yellow eyes?” He hacked up a dry laugh when Keith was too stunned to respond. “Silly.” He reached forward to cup Keith’s cheek with frozen fingertips. Brushing an icy appendage along his cheek, he dragged the tears off of his husband’s face. “And all this time I thought you were taking overtime because I’m expensive,” Lance said, mostly to himself.

Looping his icicle fingers in Keith’s raven hair, he tugged the man closer to land a kiss on his salty lips. “I’m always going to love you,” he echoed the pattern of Keith’s reassuring words, “human or not human.” And Keith finally understood why Lance cried in response to compliments. The tears just wouldn’t stop, coming heavier when Lance added more to his already sufficient reassurance. “Because no matter your eyes or teeth, you’re always Keith. My Keith. My caring, hotheaded, irrational, sweet, protective _dumbass_ of a husband.” There was no animosity to his insults, only the soft air or reassurance and the silky breath of love. Bending forward with a wince, he huffed his next sentence against Keith’s shining lips, marveling at the way he managed to make even the glisten of tears beautiful. He spoke in a tone that almost completely masked the pain of his raw wounds. “You’re always going to be the man I love.”

Keith was sure that the moment his head cleared, he would be embarrassed by the broken wail that had risen from his lungs at Lance’s words. His mouth felt too humid, like tears had been pooling along his tongue rather than his eyes. He dipped his nose to the wrist he was holding, murmuring shattered apologies against the equally cracked skin. Keith would never recall a time he’d fallen apart more completely than the few minutes he spent broken by Lance’s hospital bed. His emotions were a mix of dwindling adrenaline, from finding his husband sprawled across the bathroom floor, and relief, from the forgiveness his benevolent husband had given him. Oh, and the guilt. The guilt was unbearably thick in his veins as he reminded himself that he should have known, _should have known,_ Lance would accept him like this.

“I’m a dumbass,” his lungs dripped. Lance hummed and gripped Keith’s hand back.

“Guess we’re just a couple of dumbasses, then, huh?”

The black paladin was awestruck at the way his husband managed to brighten the mood of such an awful moment. He landed a kiss against the back of Lance’s knuckles in thanks, keeping watery eye contact as he did. Keith was close enough to feel his husband’s breath fan across the bridge of his nose, but he still made an effort to move in closer, fully prepared to express his gratefulness further. Watching Lance’s eyes flutter shut, he let his own do the same. Lance’s breath was so warm, he felt like his skin was burning. Surely he could pass it off as sunburn, if anyone pointed out the ruby tint to his cheeks. Ohh, and it felt even hotter the closer her got. His head was spinning, anticipation rising, when he finally brushed his lips ever so slightly against Lance’s--

“Keith, you _asshole!_ ” He shoved away quickly, sunburn excuse on the tip of his tongue. He blinked at the people in the doorway, Hunk in the front, having been the one who shouted. Had Hunk ever cussed at him before? Or at anyone? No way, he was too adorable. But oh boy, he looked mad. And he was speed walking rather aggressively towards Keith. “You _hung up on me,_ just who do you think you _are?_ ” The yellow paladin glanced at Lance, who waved shyly from his cot. “Hello, other resident dumbass.” The red paladin pouted at the nickname, but took no offense.

“You are both _notoriously_ bad at communication, you know that, don’t you?” Pidge stepped in from the doorway.

Jumping to his husband’s defense, Keith quickly shot back, “Lance is fine at communication, it was me--”

“Oh, so then he told you he took those two extra missions in a row because Iverson promised him a raise?” Keith’s eyes darted to Lance’s in an accusatory manner, but the glare lacked any real fire behind it. The brunet smiled sheepishly, merely shrugging.

“That was a poor choice,” Shiro scolded gently. Leaning closer to Lance’s ear, he added, “seriously, at least share the loot next time,” just loud enough for everyone to hear. The red paladin smiled, laughing softly at the joke. The rest of the room followed suit.

Everyone had gotten off of work early to visit, and they all carried their own flowers and other “get well soon” type gifts. Lance got his fair share of earfuls, too, but he didn’t let any of them get to him, simply focusing on the squeeze of Keith’s hand around his own to distract himself. By the time all the other paladins and Coran had filtered out and headed home, the horizon was an inky black. Keith had gotten permission to spend the night at his husband’s bedside and he’d pulled his chair right up next Lance. He reached an arm over the bars at the side of the cot, cradling Lance’s swollen cheek in his trembling palm. His thumb traced delicate patterns along the skin.

It drew a line to the man’s lips, tickling the unusually dry flesh, before dragging down to the underside of Lance’s chin. Keith stood up and bent uncomfortably over the metal wall to place his lips where his fingers had trailed only seconds prior. Lance sighed against the fleeting touch, air flooding into Keith’s mouth through the sliver of a part in his lips. Keith trapped the noise, swallowing it and clasping his mouth back against Lance’s, which gave him another pretty sound. Lance sent shaking fingertips to tangle in Keith’s hair, gripping and nudging the two closer together.

“You should get some rest,” the black paladin said, sharpened teeth catching on Lance’s lips as he pulled back to regain his lost breath. Lance found himself thinking about how sexy the canines were, regardless of how inopportune the timing was. He made a sound akin to a whimper, nails scraping lightly down Keith’s scalp to rest against the nape of his neck. Keith shuddered, eyes slipping shut.

“You’re so far,” Lance whined, pressing his fingers more urgently against the reddening skin of his husband’s neck.

Keith’s breath was shaky.

“Well, it’s not like I can get much closer.”

“And why not? This cot has more room.” His eyelashes fluttered innocently.

“But, is that allowed?” Keith tried to resist the persuasive dip to his husband’s voice and the gorgeous glint to his pleading eyes. He never could deny Lance anything. Crawling behind the man, he settled himself against the wall for the night. “Happy?” His question had an edge to it, but Lance paid no heed, simply humming gently.

“Keith,” he got out through a yawn. The man rubbed a hand against the crook of Lance’s neck in answer, not missing the subtle tremor that trickled down his husband’s spine. He repeated the action, even as Lance continued speaking. “You’ll tell me next time, won’t you?” He bent forward to kiss the crown of Lance’s head, ignoring the question that was too vague for his understanding. “Keith, if you’re insecure, you’ll tell me, right?” His voice cut off when Keith pushed his head to the side a little to nibble the edge of his ear. Lance felt the prick of pointy teeth and something bubbled low in his stomach. “You always help me when I feel insecure, I just want to return the favor,” he whispered, turning back to face Keith with a tilted head. He’d unwittingly given his husband access to the column of his neck, freezing when chapped lips landed on his Adam’s apple.

“Yes,” Keith answered simply, hot and humid against Lance’s skin. “I guess it does more harm to you when I don’t tell you. I should have known sooner. I-- Sorry,” he trailed off, pulling back, but tightening his grip around Lance’s waist.

“Hey, at least you know now.” Keith buried his nose in Lance’s hair when the smaller man turned forward again. Lance slid further down his chest, resting the top of his head against his husband’s collarbones. Keith held his wrists in the hug, observing the way Lance’s eyelids shut and admiring how handsome he looked, even with the bags under his eyes and the scrapes tracing his cheeks. How unfair.

The moonlight was framing his face and making his features seem frailer than they typically were. His lips were pale in the wintery light, and when they parted to make way for gentle snoring, Keith found it all overwhelmingly endearing. He rested his chin atop the tangled waves of coffee hair, before turning his head so his cheekbone was positioned there, instead. His eyes shut as he tried to join Lance in slumber.

His doubts were washed away, and as he felt Lance’s steady heartbeat beneath his palms, he knew his husband's were too. He vowed never to doubt Lance again. How could he when he'd just seen his husband reassure him even from his hospital bed? After failing to see even the slightest hint of hesitation in his declarations of affection, Keith couldn’t even believe he'd thought for as much as a second that Lance wouldn’t love him because of something so miniscule.

It seemed like he and Lance certainly had some talking to do, but he wasn’t the least bit worried. He’d get better at expressing his feelings; he had before and he would now. And while it was a slow and painful process, he knew he could trust Lance to help him every step of the way. And he’d have to help Lance, too. Make sure he knew any doubts Keith had were not directed at his feelings towards him.

Chest sinking further with each breath, Keith began to drift off. He fell asleep with hope for the future. He fell asleep with an even stronger appreciation for the man in his arms. He fell asleep with a gentle curve to his lips and a pleasant heat against his front. He fell asleep feeling unbearably lucky and unbearably loved.

Just the way he would make sure Lance fell asleep every night for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE! I hope you enjoyed!  
> Please send me your thoughts or requests! There's nothing an author loves more than that :)  
> (And if you dig Langst, check out my other fics cuz boy oh boy, so do I)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!! :-)


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